


Such Manhood is Called Foolery When it Stands Against a Falling Fabric

by Matchgirl42



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston RPF
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hair Pulling, Spankings, clothing ripping, role playing in the bedroom and beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matchgirl42/pseuds/Matchgirl42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actor!Tom surprises his lover (reader) when she gets home with a little role play as his character Caius Martius Coriolanus.  Do read the tags, darling.  When I write stories like this, they are usually referred to by my readers as...volcanic.  Ehehehe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Manhood is Called Foolery When it Stands Against a Falling Fabric

**Author's Note:**

> Like all my other works, this story was posted to my tumblr first. If you read it here that's wonderful, just be aware that the tumblr post has been enhanced with gifs. *wicked grin*

_What a day._

You put your key in the lock of the front door of your flat, weariness seeping through your bones and making your muscles tremble slightly. You are just so glad to finally be home, to be done with a day of endless meetings and phone calls and soothing of raucous tempers.

 _Home_.

You open the door and the lights are dim, which surprises you. Shouldn’t he have just gotten home? Perhaps he is late; perhaps he is trying to sign for everyone, he’s so generous with his fans that way and he -

“Hail, my gracious silence.”

Your head whips around and you see him framed in the doorway to the bedroom, a soft light you hadn’t noticed before back lighting him. He is standing tall, proud, head up and back and facing you with a look in his eyes that you had not seen in some time, as busy as you both have been.

Your blood starts to awaken.

“Tom, what is-”

He stops you with a quickly raised hand and you notice that he is wearing his Coriolanus costume, complete with the leather breastplate, tighter-than-sin jeans, vambraces and gloves. Those fingerless leather gloves that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about since he joined the production.

 _Oh, fuck me. PLEASE._ Your blood is starting to pump faster now, the weariness in your muscles starting to melt away. You don’t know where this has come from, but you are not sure if you care with him looking at you like he is. Like a lion about to devour his prey.

He starts to move, slowly stalking towards you. Your suddenly nerveless fingers drop your bags and keys onto the floor with a loud _thump_ and he smiles. A predatory smile that causes things to tighten in your body. Unthinking you take a step backwards towards the door and it is at this movement that he rushes towards you. Still in control, still filled with a dominance that scares you, within seconds he is upon you and pressing you up against the door with a _thump_ to match the ones your items made when they hit the floor.

He presses his hands to either side of you, blocking you in and you cannot suppress the shudder that moves through your body. His eyes soften just a little and he moves his right hand to your cheek, softly stroking it.

“Best of my flesh, forgive my tyranny. Let me twine my arms about that body; Thou noble thing! More dances my rapt heart than when I first saw thee bestride my threshold.”

His head dips down to take the skin of your neck between his lips with a gentle suction as your mind races. Obviously he is in a mood to play and if the reality matches the promise of what has happened so far, you are more than happy to play with him. You know some Shakespeare very well – _Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing_ – but you only ran his _Coriolanus_ lines with him a few times and you don’t remember the words. _Damn_!

But that doesn’t seem to be stopping him; quite the contrary, his right hand has moved to the back of your head, the fingers sliding through the strands of your hair and then gripping tightly to bend your head backwards. At first you could feel the difference between the skin of his fingers and the leather of the glove, but now all you feel is the delicious pressure in your scalp that is diving straight to your nipples and your groin.

“Tom, I -” you manage to whisper.

He growls against your throat. “Caius. Call me Caius, Corioles. I am here to breach your walls, to overcome your defenses, to take you and to ravish you. I do not mean to make you weep, but rather know this: I do mean to make you quake.”

His other hand moves to grab you about the waist and lift; your arms wrap around his shoulders and your legs wrap around his waist automatically, the skirt of your business suit riding up around your hips with the motion. Your pulse is thundering in your ears and you suddenly don’t care whether you know the words or not.

Still sucking on your neck, you feel him turn and start to move. You close your eyes, all you can concentrate on is the feel of his arm around your waist, his fist still clenched in your hair and his lips and tongue at your neck. They’re going to leave a mark but you really don’t care.

_Mark me. Make me yours._

His lips pull away from your neck with a pop and you moan at the loss. He chuckles and you feel his fingers release your hair as his other hand lowers you to your feet. He looks down at you through hooded eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“ _Kneel,_ ” he says through slightly gritted teeth.

Your legs drop automatically and your knees hit the carpet, the vibration jarring it’s way up your thighs and through your body. You close your eyes again at the sensation which brings another chuckle from him.

“So eager to surrender to me, Corioles? ‘Tis not that simple, I’m afraid.”

“Would you rather I fight you?” you find the temerity to ask. You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth for he is swooping forward now, wrapping his left hand around the back of your neck and gripping your chin with the other. You can feel the edge of the finger holes of the leather glove pressing into your skin.

“Do you fear me not? Disdain me much beyond my thoughts, which makes me sweat with wrath? Shall you feel mine edge?”

“I -”

“Silence your tongue or I shall silence it for thee, Corioles.”

He lets your chin go and his hand runs down your neck, into the v of your blouse. He bunches the silk between his fingers, then with a sudden jerk the fabric of it and the wool jacket is ripping, being torn from your body.

Your shock overcomes your sense and you grab his arms with your hands as you let out a startled yell. “Tom! This suit cost 1200 pounds!”

He looks up at you and you realize your mistake. He lets go of you, stands and turns to walk towards the chest of drawers against the wall. _Stupid, stupid. It’s only a suit, you can afford another, and now…._ ”Tom, forgive me, I…”

He turns around and walks back towards you, holding something in his hands you cannot quite make out. “My name,” he growls. “is Caius.”

He moves behind you and then you feel your arms being wrenched together and what feels like rope tying them together. You start to struggle, you don’t want to be tied up but he was too fast for you. It makes him chuckle again, though. “By all means, Corioles. Struggle against me. But no matter how you struggle I _will_ defeat you.”

He moves back into your view and resumes ripping the blouse and jacket from your torso. Each rip, each jerk of the fabric sends a jolt directly to your core until there are pieces of fabric in a circle of small piles on the carpet around you. Your nipples, now exposed to the cool air of the room, begin to harden in earnest into small pearls of flesh. The sight makes him smirk.

“Caius, please…”

His hand reaches up and his thumb runs gently over your lips.

“Mine ears against your suits are stronger than your gates against my force, Corioles. Wish you to yield so soon? Why, we have hardly begun, you and I, to struggle against one another.”

His hand moves down your chest, stopping briefly to fondle each breast then moving to the waistband of your skirt. He grabs a hand full of the fabric of the skirt and yanks, the wool giving way to his strength much as the jacket and blouse did as he tears it from your body. You brace yourself for him to rip your panties and garter belt from you as well, but to your surprise his fingers delicately trace the silk of your underwear, moving to cup over your mound. He chuckles in your ear.

“So wet already for me, Corioles, and we have barely started. Is this how you resist the might of Rome? Is this the strength of your shields, that you would yield to me so easily?”

All you can do is moan in response as his fingers play over your folds through the silk. Your hips buck up involuntarily into his hand which makes him growl again in response. His fingers move underneath the fabric but still do not touch you where you are _aching_ to be touched. The denial is driving you insane. You want to be touched there, you _need_ to be touched there. You start to undulate your hips, hoping for some contact but a hand wrapping in your hair and once again yanking your head back brings your body to a halt.

“If you are to yield to me, Corioles, you will yield utterly. I will have you, all of you, but as _I_ will it. Do you understand?”

You try to nod but his grip in your hair prevents it. “Yes, Caius” you breathe.

At that moment you feel a sharp tug on your underwear and hear the silk rip. The cool air is now moving across your labia, causing the short hairs there to move slightly in a wave of sensation that moves across the rest of your skin.

“As much as I would leave these scraps on your skin, Corioles, to see your beauty wrapped in the shreds of your defeat, you have defied me and for that you must be punished. You will _not_ defy me, Corioles. You will _learn_ not to.”

He rips the rest of the fabric from your body along with your garter belt, the revealed skin already tingling with sensitivity. He leaves your nylons and heels where they are. You feel his hand move down your back and grasp your arms and then you are being bent forward, your hips ending up across his thighs and knees, your cheek pressed against the carpet and facing away from him. Your body involuntarily tenses for what you know is coming and you feel a hand caressing your bare butt cheek. You can once again feel the difference between the leather of the glove and his bare fingers, and it is fueling your lust. And then the hand is gone and you are left quivering, all your senses heightened as you wait for him to punish you.

 _Smack_. The first slap lands against your skin and you gasp at the sensation. This is different than what you have done before. You could feel the edge of the leather where his fingers are left bare by the gloves, feel the difference between the leather covering his palm and the bare skin of his fingers impacting on your flesh. The fire is already starting in your skin and it is a varied burn, most intense at the center of your cheek then diminishing in force as it radiated outwards.

 _Smack._ You can tell with the next hit that he has noted the differences as well. It feels as if he is concentrating the force of his hits in his palm where it is protected by the leather of the glove; the lighter impact of his fingers is like the lick of the end of a cane when it comes down after the main part of the cane has hit. The sensation is running up and down your body which is convulsing in the pleasure and the pain of it and you feel his other hand press down on the small of your back to keep you on his lap.

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

The tears have started, and you are gasping into the carpet. You find a part of you hoping he will stop after five – a first for the two of you, your usual minimum is ten swats but with the new intensity he is using you are unsure of how much you can take. And yet he continues. The burn in your skin is growing in intensity, and then the tenth swat lands and you feel his hand rubbing your skin in small circles, both soothing and inflaming the skin anew.

You are breathing in great big gulps against the carpet and then you feel his lips against your back. He sits back up and rolls you over in his lap, looking down at you with eyes whose pupils are blown wide by lust.

“You took that so well Corioles, but we are not finished, you and I. Now I shall overtake you, claim you once and for all and -”

His words cut off as your questing fingers find his cock where it is slowly awakening below you and you are greeted with a moan as you stroke it’s hardening length. He closes his eyes and his head moves back. “Oh! Make you a sword of me, Corioles?

“'Tis only meet, when you have prepared the sheath, Lord Caius,” you whisper through your tears.

His head rolls forward and his eyes open to stare down at you. “Best of my flesh, indeed,” he murmurs before bending forward to press his lips against yours. The kiss is deep and full of passion as his now fully hard cock twitches beneath your fingertips.

Keeping his lips on yours he lifts you and stands with you in his arms. You feel him turn and then his lips leave yours as you are placed face down on the bed, your bed. You turn your face to the side as you hear a zipper come undone and then once again his fingers are running across your bottom, awakening the fire anew.

“And now I enter thy gates, Corioles. Art thou ready to receive the might of the sword of Rome?”

You feel his hands move to grasp your wrists where they are tied together behind your back and then you are entered in one long, smooth stroke. You sheathe him to the hilt and the movement makes you gasp.

“I am within thy gates, Corioles. Wilt thou yield to me utterly? ANSWER ME!” he growls as he starts to thrust.

“Caius! Yes! I yield. I yield utterly!” you gasp out.

“Thou art mine, Corioles. Every storehouse, every voice is mine. Scream mine name, Corioles. SCREAM MINE NAME!”

“CAIUS!!!!!” you manage to scream.

“AGAIN! Let all ears know that thou art mine!”

“CAIUS!!!!” you scream again, beginning to feel the rawness in your throat as you force the sound out.

“AGAIN!”

“CAIUS!” you start to scream his name over and over again, not daring to stop. Not _wanting_ to stop, not with the pleasure coursing through your veins and the accompanying burn on your skin where his hips are smacking into you. You once again feel a hand gripping in your hair, forcing your head backwards as he continues to pump into you. To claim you, as his and his alone.

The final “CAIUS!” rips from your throat before your voice gives out. You try to keep screaming his name but no sound comes no matter what you try. But he is grunting above you as his hips continue to slam into you, the pleasure building in your core until it suddenly explodes outwards, causing your legs to tremble and your walls to quiver around him. You hear him hiss above you and then he slams into you one final time before he too is trembling against you with the force of his orgasm as he fills you.

Your head is lowered gently to the mattress but the fingers remain, gently massaging your scalp as you feel his body lower over yours.

“You are mine, Corioles. From here on I change my name, to Coriolanus.” you hear him murmur beside your ear. “Thus all shall know the might of Rome.”

“Tom, that was…” you whisper.

You feel hands untying your arms, and then you are turned over and he gathers you against his chest. “You are mine, Corioles,” he repeats as he runs a hand up and down your back. “And I shall never let you go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Song listened to while writing this: L’amour est un oiseau rebelle from the opera Carmen, written by Georges Bizet and performed by Angela Gheorghiu


End file.
